Three Things I’m Not
by planet p
Summary: AU; about Kyle. Kyle/Lolly


**Three**** Things I'm Not** by planet p

**Disclaimer** I don't own _the Pretender_ or any of its characters.

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_AU; Kyle/Lolly. Lolly is an OC__, who I imagine like the actress who played Constance Welch in the _Supernatural_ Season One first episode. I think she also plays in a television show called _Life.

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1.

He wakes, lying on his side on a bed, half an arm sticking off the mattress, as though he was about to tumble off after it.

He opens his eyes and sees Lolly's face in front of him; she's kneeling on the floor, on old carpet, trodden and dirty, her face cast down and hidden from him behind long dark hair by which he knows it is her. He can smell it in her shampoo.

She presses her lips to his wrist in a kiss, her lips feel dry and chapped on the soft, warm skin of his wrist, and a strange tingle runs through him at the contact, making him want to sit up and put a stop to it.

As though she senses his thoughts, she lifts her head and sees him looking at her, staring, really. After a moment, she straightens, keeping her eyes on him, and he relaxes slightly, until she reaches out a hand and grips his arm, and flips him over onto his back.

She climbs onto the bed and settles herself on top of him, straddling him with her legs, and bends down to touch her mouth to his ear, breathing, for only him to hear, as her hand slides over his abdomen into his pants, "They're watching."

* * *

He breaks from the daydream with a jerk, his chest sore, and sees that Lolly is sitting across from him, across an expanse of laminate tabletop, in the booth that they'd taken in a diner for lunch.

Their order seems to have arrived, because she's eating, and she looks up and sees him watching her, and kicks him under the table. "Are you going to eat that?" she asks, of his lunch, and he slowly realises that he's no longer hungry. She doesn't wait for an answer, but returns her attention to her own lunch.

His hands hurt, and he unclenches his fingers that had been wrapped around the edge of the seat tightly, and removes his other hand from the inside of his thigh.

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2.

It's a dull day, the sky obscured by heavy grey clouds, suffocating the sunlight, and he pauses on the footpath as he catches sight of her inside. It's a bridal boutique, and he can't think what she's doing in there, but, what's more, she's _wearing_ a wedding dress, and he can't think what she's doing wearing it.

He doesn't _want_ to think what she's doing wearing it, he realises a moment later, as the clouds shift overhead, but no bright, warm light comes through.

He wants to walk ahead, forget what he's just seen, but she still in there – his partner is still in there – and he marches toward the door, and pulls it open and steps inside with a determined stride.

"Hon', we gotta talk!" he declares conversationally as he strides toward her, and ignores the look of shock that plays with her face at seeing him, _here_. He places a hand to her upper arm and guides her to a changing room.

If she'd just stayed in the thing in the first place, he thinks, none of this would have happened. He would have walked past without ever seeing her.

He doesn't care what the saleswoman thinks, she stopped figuring into his thoughts the moment reached his partner and took her arm.

He shuts and locks the changing room door behind them, and, in the brief moment that he looked away, Lolly has had time to rearrange her expression, so that it is no longer shocked, though he can see by her eyes, that some of the shock is still there, lingering in the corners, in the brown of her irises and the dark glimmer of her pupils.

With a hand on her arm, he backs her roughly against the cool surface of a large mirror, feeling sick.

He wants to ask what she's doing wearing a dress like that, but he's too close to her now, and he can smell shampoo mixed with perfume, and his other hand is fisted up in the skirt of the dress, though he can't remember when he put it there, or how long it's been like that.

He can feel the heat coming off her body, and tries to think, instead, when she started wearing perfume.

Her voice is quiet, unsure, when she speaks, everything he's never heard in her voice before. "What are you doing?"

* * *

A car door slamming, a horn blast, mixed cuss words, in assorted languages, filter through to him. He's out on the street, still standing on the footpath; he never left.

A teenage boy is yelling at a parking inspector, the pair standing by his car, three or four car spaces up from where he's standing.

Lolly lowers her head, inside the large glass-fronted window, to touch the skirt, to savour the feel of the material.

His hand is balled up against his leg, gripping a fistful of the material tightly. He relaxes his grip and makes his hand fall back to his side, then turns away from the shop window. He walks away, passing the teenager and the parking inspector soundlessly.

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3.

It's another cloudy day. They're walls to either side of them, close by, a step, maybe a step and a half, between them, not enough for a vehicle to fit through, but a bicycle or motorcycle, no problems.

She's not facing him; her back is turned to him. Her long brown hair falls down her jacket. She's ignoring him.

He pushes her up against the wall, using his weight against her so that she can't retaliate, at least, not right away. He doesn't know why she's ignoring him – what he's done – but he intends to find out.

He closes his eyes for a moment; it's good to be this close to her. When he opens them, his gaze is directed to the ground.

An evidence bag is lying on the ground by their feet.

That's when he realises that this time it's real. He feels Lolly's heart beating wildly against his chest, and feels sick.

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_Thanks for __reading! All creepiness is mine, sorry. :-(_


End file.
